


The Scars that Remind Us

by Puffcat



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M, alpha pair, mostly Sanada's memories, the obligatory alpha pair sick fic every au has, theres not enough pacific rim au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffcat/pseuds/Puffcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanada reflects on his final mission, and the events that followed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scars that Remind Us

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a quote by Cormac McCarthy - “Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”

Sanada remembers. He won’t ever forget, he thinks, the day he ran his last mission. The day Yukimura collapsed.

He remembers, before they got into the pod, the engineers talking about minor damage that had not yet been fixed. Their previous mission had been their hardest yet. Two category threes and one two. In the end, they had barely made it back to base, with great damage to the core, as well as the legs of their jaeger, _Alpha Magnificent_. They had not expected to be deployed so soon after that, but the newest rangers, Shishido and Ootori, got into trouble dealing with their first kaiju when they were sent out, just four days later.

Before locking into the controls, both he and Yukimura had been assured that their jaeger was functional, would be perfectly fine for the quick clean up this would be.

In the drift, however, something felt off. Drifting with Yukimura was like nothing Sanada had ever felt. When their minds became one, he felt lighter, he felt free, like floating on a vast, clear ocean. But this time…a dark haze licked at the corners of their shared consciousness. Not enough to keep them from completing their mission, but enough for Sanada to take notice. At the time, he had chalked it up to fatigue. For the last few days, Yukimura had been more tired than usual.

It took them less than ten minutes to take down the lone kaiju, a category three by the name Stickleback. The long, sharp spines protruding from its back and tail were oozing a nasty looking blue slime. By the look of Shishido and Ootori’s jaeger, _Silver Striker_ , it could melt through metal easily. But it had already been wounded by the time Sanada and Yukimura arrived, and two well placed plasma blasts to the head-once they had successfully pinned it down-had put it out for good.

That haze, by the time they returned to the Shatterdome and docked, had intensified. What was once a flicker at the edges of Sanada’s vision, was now a very present entity. He disconnected from the control system, and pulled off his helmet to find Yukimura doing the same. He looked pale, moreso than usual. Sanada had laid a hand on his partner’s shoulder, asking if he was alright. Yukimura smiled softly, replying that he was fine, just in need of a good rest.

Except, that he wasn’t.

Five steps out of their jaeger, and Sanada had watched in alarm and fear as the other man crumpled to the floor. He remembers it vividly, the way his legs gave way from under him, the way he lay motionless, looking every bit as frail and delicate as his features made him seem. He had screamed for help, and hoisted Yukimura up into his arms, running as fast as he could to the medical bay.

Radiation poisoning. That’s what the doctors had said. Alpha’s core had sprung a leak on their last mission, and prolonged exposure had created Yukimura’s sickness. Sanada was lucky to have been unaffected, or at least that’s what he was told. But sitting next to his drift partner’s bed, holding his cool, thin hand, he would have given anything to change places.

Even after Yukimura had regained consciousness, the doctors had kept him under close watch for the next few days. They had run test after test, taken many blood samples. In the end, they determined that the radiation had mutated the cells at the base of Yukimura’s spine. Nerve damage had already occurred, they had informed him. Paralysis would soon, if left untreated. And eventually, death. Neither of them shed tears when Yukimura was given the news. But both could feel the other gripping each other’s hand a little tighter.

At every free moment, Sanada spent his time with Yukimura in the med bay. Luckily, a fellow ranger, Niou Masaharu, had finally found a drift partner that would stick with him. An ex naval officer, Sanada had heard. Given that there were now two functioning teams again, he had requested special permission from Marshal Juzaburou to be put on reserve. In return, he agreed take over partial training of potential rangers.

For weeks, Sanada watched as his once strong, indomitable partner became weaker and weaker. Some mornings, when Yukimura felt especially good, the doctors allowed him to take a short walk, provided Sanada never left his side. Other mornings, he woke up unable to feel his legs. Though on those days, he never lashed out, never vented or cursed. No matter how much Sanada knew he wanted to.   

As much as Sanada had hated seeing the other in a state of constant frustration, he would have hated even more seeing Yukimura just give up, accept the fate the universe was trying to thrust upon him. And Sanada told him so, at night, when the navy haired man had fallen asleep. He told him how strong he was. How he’d beat this. How he would be with him until the very end, whether it was seventy years from then or- He could never allow himself to finish that thought. But even so, it lurked in the back of his mind always plaguing him. Finally, alone in the darkness of the medbay, the tears came. Silent, but flowing strongly all the same. He could never let Yukimura see him like this. Little did he know, Yukimura thought similarly. Only when Sanada and the doctors had left, did he allow himself to cry.

 

Oishi was a godsend. Given the current state of the world, the best doctors had been diverted to major civilian hospitals, to care for all those injured in the kaiju attacks. And only the best doctors could perform the surgery needed to potentially cure Yukimura. But by a stroke of luck, they had found that one of the rangers from the Hong Kong Shatterdome was a licensed surgeon, and had the training necessary to lead the operation. And so, Oishi Shuichiro, half of the best team Hong Kong had, came to Tokyo. He was a very kind man, very unassuming. He had gentle emerald eyes, and projected a calming, almost motherly aura. At first glance, Sanada would not have pegged him to be a pilot. But then, he would have said the same thing about Yukimura, had he not known how completely untrue that was.

The operation itself was experimental. Oishi had never performed spinal cell replacement before, and told both Sanada and Yukimura up front that there was only a fifty percent chance of this even working. And that would be the best case scenario. But even hearing those odds, Yukimura immediately agreed to go through with it, a determination present in his eyes that Sanada had not seen so strong for some time.

                In order for the surgery to be completed, Yukimura had to be moved to Hong Kong, where Oishi knew the doctors that would help him. Sanada, of course, accompanied him. He had stayed with him in the helicopter that transported them, keeping him comfortable, and doing all he could to ease his partner’s irritability. He was tired of being confined to a bed in a too-clean room. He had said countless times that he just wanted to be cured already. Neither mentioned the other possible outcome. For them, for Yukimura, success had been the only option.

                The Hong Kong Shatterdome was much more lively than their own. It was larger, the major hub base for all of Asia, run under the command of Marshal Yamato. Though his eyepatch and facial scar gave him an intimidating appearance, he greeted Yukimura with a soft smile and a soothing voice, wishing him the best of luck and a speedy recovery. The look he reserved for Sanada alone, just before he left, made him think that the battle-scarred man had gone through something similar in his lifetime.

                As the date of the operation, set for two weeks after their arrival, neared, the more intense the nightmares became. Not one night had gone by where Sanada did not awake in a cold sweat, the sight of Yukimura’s cold, lifeless body, lying in a hospital bed, burned into the inside of his eyelids. He did his best to calm his shaking hands, his labored breathing. But he had not been able to stop his mind from running wild, forcing him to imagine a life without his partner, his best friend. No more sweet smiles, no more long sparring sessions in the Kwoon room, no more drifting.

Only after all of that had Sanada finally realized. He loved Yukimura. Loved him more than he had loved any friend, loved him differently than any of his family members. He had only hoped this epiphany had not come too late.

                He had barely arrived on time to see Yukimura off before he was moved to the operating room. His training of this base’s new recruits-which he had offered to help with as soon as he arrived- had run long, and the surgery itself had been pushed forward. The recent tests had shown that the mutated cells had grown faster than the doctors had expected. They had to begin as soon as possible. As much as Sanada had wanted to confess to Yukimura in their-for now-final moments together, he forced himself to stay silent, brush his finger’s over the other man’s in a last gesture of comfort before the gurney he laid upon was wheeled away. All that was left to him now, was to wait.

                And wait he did. For hours on end, he had sat on the concrete bench outside of operating room. At one time, he had been visited by a smiling redhead, who Sanada felt had much too much energy, given the gravity of his situation. But once the other had learned why he was waiting, he sobered up right away, reassuring Sanada that if anyone in the world could make his partner well again, it was Oishi. Seeing the pride and admiration in the shorter man’s eyes as he spoke of the doctor, Sanada had been inclined to believe him.

After what had seemed like an eternity, an exhausted, slightly ruffled Oishi had emerged from the operating room. Sanada had held his breath as he stood, searching the doctor’s face intently for any sign of the outcome, good or bad. He remembers nearly fainting when Oishi smiled at him. Blood pounded in his ears, and he saw, rather than heard, Oishi mouth the words ‘He’ll be alright’.

_He’ll be alright._

With those three, simple words, Sanada had felt more relieved, more happy, than he ever recalled feeling in his entire life. He managed to come to his senses long enough to ask Oishi when he could visit Yukimura, confirm for himself that he was, in fact, alright. The doctor had lead him to a small corner in the medbay, blocked off by a curtain. And behind it, in a bed dressed in crisp white linen, lay Sanada’s partner. He was sleeping, long eyelashes fluttering against pink tinted cheeks. There were still many machines and IVs hooked up to him, but this time, they were there for healing purposes, rather than survival. Turning back to Oishi, Sanada bowed low, thanking him profusely. Because of him, Yukimura would live to see many more healthy years. He felt indebted to the doctor. But Oishi had only blushed slightly and patted his shoulder, replying that he was glad to have saved another life, and that thankfully the procedure had been a success. And with that, he left, leaving Sanada once again to wait at Yukimura’s bedside.

The next day, in the early hours of the morning, Yukimura woke up. The shifting of his hand was what had jerked Sanada out of his light sleep, and immediately he was at attention, watching as the navy haired man became aware of his surroundings. The conversation that followed was one that would be forever stored amongst his most cherished memories.

_“G-Genichirou….?” Never before had his name sounded so sweet as it did when Yukimura had first uttered it, despite his voice being still slightly scratchy from the respirator tube that had been fed down his throat during the surgery._

_“Seichii…” Sanada had breathed in response. “How…How are you feeling?”_

_Yukimura frowned. “I feel…sore. Everything’s…a bit hazy, right now… Must be some good stuff I’m on…” And it was. Morphine, or at least that’s what the label on the IV read. Sanada watched as he shivered slightly. “’M cold… Come keep me warm, there aren’t…aren’t good blankets.”_

_A blush crept up Sanada’s neck. Though they had shared a room, back in Tokyo, they had never shared a bed. But even so, he would never deny Yukimura anything, especially when he was recovering from major surgery. “As you wish.” He quietly agreed. Yukimura shifted over in the small bed as best he could, and Sanada was left to squeeze into the remaining space under the thin blankets. They were pressed quite close._

_Sanada barely dared to breathe as Yukimura sighed, and shifted again to lay his head on the taller man’s shoulder. “You smell good….” He murmured. That must be the morphine talking, Sanada convinced himself. “I’ve missed your smell… ‘S been nothing but chemicals and bleach for months…” He went on, voice still tinged with sleep. “Wanna…wanna leave soon.”_

_“You can leave when the doctors say you can.” Was his partner’s soft reply._

_The pout that graced Yukimura’s fine features was nothing short of adorable, Sanada decided. “They’re never gonna let me go…” He huffed, before nuzzling into the other man’s shirt. “At least…at least you’re here, though…”_

_Emotions welled up in Sanada’s chest once again._ At least you’re here _, he wanted to say._ I was so scared that you wouldn’t be _. “I’ll always be here, Seiichi.” It was all he could muster, as his throat tighted and his eyes began to itch slightly._

_“Mmm…I know…” Yukimura sighed. He tilted his head upwards, and suddenly Sanada found himself ensnared by those deep, sapphire blue eyes looking up at him._

_He lifted his hand to brush his fingertips over Yukimura’s cheekbones, and down to his chin, lifting it the smallest bit higher as he turned his head to face him fully. All the while he never broke eye contact, no matter how fast his heart began to race. “Forever and always…I will be by your side…” Sanada whispered. Then, he let his eyes fall shut, and closed the small gap between them, pressing his lips to Yukimura’s._

_It only took a second before his partner melted against him, returning the kiss with sweet, gentle pressure. Yukimura’s lips were as soft and warm as Sanada had imagined they would be. He felt his heart flutter, and he slowly moved his hand up from Yukimura’s chin to tangle his fingers in his long, feathery locks. Finally, finally, he was sharing a kiss with the man he loved, the man he came so close to losing. Sanada felt the other exhale a long, shuddering breath against his lips, before moving in to kiss him again. This time, their mouths moved together lazily, a rhythm established without any thought. They never deepened the kiss, only reveled in the feeling of such new, intimate contact. Sanada felt a thrill run down his spine as Yukimura sucked his bottom lip lightly between his own. Ever so carefully, the taller man worked an arm under Yukimura’s shoulder, turning his body and bringing them closer together._

_He couldn’t say how long they remained together, but when they finally pulled away, Yukimura fixed him with a look of pure adoration. “I’ve been waiting so long for that…”_

_“I…I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner… If the surgery hadn’t worked-” But Sanada was silenced with a single finger resting on his lips._

_“But it did. We don’t have to think about that anymore…” Yukimura soothed, laying his head back down on Sanada’s shoulder, nose brushing against his neck._

_Sanada internally kicked himself. He shouldn’t allow himself to think like that, especially since there was no point in it. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “You’re right. As always.”_

_“’Course I am…” He felt Yukimura yawn against his skin. “I’m gonna sleep a little now… ‘Night, Genichirou…”_

_Sanada took it upon himself to give Yukimura one last kiss, a light peck on the forehead. “Goodnight, Seichi…”_

_They both fell into a fitful slumber, for the first time in many weeks._

The doctors had kept Yukimura in the medbay for another week after that, just to be sure he was truly stable. The replacement stem cells had been accepted by his body, and there were no traces of mutation to be found. He would start physical therapy to re-strengthen his muscles as soon as possible. But there was one condition. Despite the stem cells replacing the damaged ones, Yukimura was still susceptible to any amount of radiation in his weakened state. For the foreseeable future, he would no longer be a pilot.

He had fought the decision, of course. An improved suit, careful jaeger maintenance, all these things he argued would keep him from getting sick again. As much as Sanada wanted to see his partner-he always would be, active pilot or not- back in action, he had silently agreed with the doctors. He never wanted to see Yukimura so sick, so frail, ever again. It didn’t suit him.

Sanada had quickly memorized Yukimura’s medicine regime, and learned how to correctly change his bandages. After being discharged from the medical bay, Yukimura had allowed Sanada to take over his care. The first night spent in their temporary room, Yukimura had stood next to their bed and stripped off his shirt, turning his back to Sanada, waiting. He shivered as he felt large, warm hands slide down his sides, to the bandages that were wrapped around his lower back. Slowly, carefully, Sanada had begun to unwind the dressings until his entire back was exposed.

The scar that remained from the surgery was larger than Sanada had expected. A long incision right at the base of his spine, right between the two shallow dimples on either side. Still relatively new, it was red around the edges, especially where the staples-Sanada tried his hardest not to wince at that-held his skin together. There was still some bruising near the cut, but the doctors had informed them it would fade soon. He fetched the damp washcloth he had run under warm water, and gingerly cleaned the fragile skin around the long slit, wiping away the dried blood, taking care not to jostle the staples.

Yukimura, on his end, felt no pain, only a soothing, mild heat that bloomed over his lower back. He sighed, leaning back into the touch just so, and felt Sanada’s steady hand on his hip, thumb rubbing small circles into the skin there.

Sanada had soon finished his task, and laid the cloth back on the small table and picked up a large pad of gauze and a roll of medical tape. He made sure to center the gauze over the incision before securing it with two long pieces of the skin-friendly adhesive. Finally, he took a fresh bandage, tightly wrapped in a ball. He freed one end, and held it in place over Yukimura’s navel, before proceeding to wind the bandage snugly, but not too much, around his waist, until the gauze was fully covered. He placed a single kiss on the juncture between Yukimura’s neck and shoulder, signifying the end of the routine. This became their nightly ritual, until Yukimura was declared fully healed, and his staples removed, six weeks later.

During their time spent in Hong Kong, a deal had formed between Marshals Yamato and Juzaburou. Rather than have two operational bases, each with two functioning jaeger teams, it was decided that the Tokyo base would be closed, and all those who worked there would be transferred to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, effective immediately. This would allow more time in between jaeger repairs, as well as take stress off of the pilots themselves. Another accident like Yukimura’s was something both Marshals had wanted to avoid.

Given that Hong Kong had essentially become a second home to Sanada and Yukimura, they had been relatively unaffected by the decision to move. Some of those back in Tokyo, Sanada had heard, were less than pleased. They didn’t like the idea of leaving Japan relatively undefended. But under their Marshal’s orders, they had complied. Within a month, all equipment, including the jaegers, had been moved, the Hong Kong dome was busier than it had ever been. All things considered, Sanada had been more than happy with the way things had turned out.

 

 

The opening of their bunker door snapped Sanada out of his memories. He looked up from where he sat on a small rug by their bed- his place of meditation and reflection. Yukimura shut the heavy metal door behind him, and made his way over to the bed, immediately flopping down onto it, face first. “The Marshal kept you late today.” Sanada observed, moving to sit next to Yukimura’s still form.

“Mmmph.” The navy haired man agreed, or at least that’s what it had sounded like, as he was still face down on the blankets. He turned his head so that he could look at Sanada and speak clearly. “The newest team, Atobe and Tezuka, are having problems. Marshal Yamato wanted me there to help find a possible solution.”

Sanada raised an eyebrow. He’d seen those two spar. For such clashing personalities, their synchrony in the Kwoon room had impressed him. And that was not an easy thing to do. Though at the same time, it didn’t exactly surprise him that the two were at odds. “And what did you come up with?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Yukimura sighed. “He doesn’t want to split them up. He’s convinced they’ll be the best team the base has ever seen, if they can get their act together. We decided that basically locking them in a room together and letting them hash it out would be the best course of action…” He paused to yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth. “Hopefully they won’t kill each other…”

“They’re mature enough not to go that far.” Sanada reached out, brushing the hair out of Yukimura’s eyes and behind his ear. “Now come to bed. You look exhausted.” He then rid himself of his shirt, leaving him in only a pair of worn sweatpants. Yukimura was more than happy to steal his discarded shirt, quickly shucking off both his own top and pants before donning Sanada’s.

Making sure to flick on their bedside lamp before he got up, Sanada left the bed for a moment in order to turn off the ceiling lights he had dimmed before his attempted meditation. He then returned, to find Yukimura already snuggled under the covers. He slid in next to the slighter man, who immediately moved towards him, tangling their legs and pressing close. Blindly reaching behind him, Sanada turned off the small light, bathing the room in darkness.

Yukimura shifted, nudging Sanada’s cheek with his nose, prompting him to turn his head. Once he did, he caught his lips in a sweet kiss. They kept it chaste, as both were quite tired, Yukimura especially. Sighing contently as they broke apart, Yukimura reached for his partner’s hand, taking it loosely in his own. “I love you, Genichirou…”

Though the words were familiar at this point, they never ceased to flood Sanada’s heart with happiness. He squeezed Yukimura’s hand softly. “And I you, Seiichi. Always.” The words were murmured reverently, as if Sanada was reciting a prayer. Sometimes, it felt like it was. He felt blessed to have the love of his best friend and partner. After a while, he noticed Yukimura’s breathing begin to even out, letting Sanada know that he had fallen asleep. It was only then that he allowed his own eyes to close, and his body to truly relax. With Yukimura safely in his arms, sleep came easily. The nightmares had long since disappeared. The two lovers slept through the night, completely undisturbed.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This fic is only a piece of an AU I've had in my head for quite some time! I hope to write more in the future. If you wanna talk with me more, feel free to message me on my tumblr, homoerotic-volleyball-montage!


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